Clash
by Churi
Summary: BtVS/HP x-over. When one gives up, it's up to another to pick up the slack. Rating is cautionary mostly. Will be slash...
1. We regret to inform you

Summary: BtVSHP x-over. Will be slash…

Disclaimer: if you think any of this is mine, tell the voices in your head to get examined…

Prologue We regret to inform you…

Waking up was always the worst part. While asleep he could always forget about the collection of hurts and aches that any apocalypse-veteran became accustomed to. But as soon as he woke up they'd assault him all at the same time, fighting for his attention. Afterwards it became more manageable and he would shower letting most of the sleep induced kinks swirl down the drain with the warm water.

Most people who met him for the first time were surprised that a 28 year old could be as scarred as he was. Once they got to know him they were then surprised that he was as whole as he was. Besides his eye which he had lost long ago, and had been the very first body part lost, he had also managed to 'misplace' several fingers, some toes, and even a foot. Willow had attempted to re-grow them but only managed to replace them with life-like prosthetics. He only used the one for his foot though. The others were too much of a hassle to reattach each morning.

There was a reason, other than the friendly limb-reattaching Wicca, for his over all good health and that was his paranoia. It wasn't a recent acquisition but it had been honed over the years he had lived in Africa, searching for slayers and training them.

It seemed Africa was overrun with mafias who dealt in kidnapping and slavery which made his job just that much harder. He had to convince the confused can-easily-kick-your-ass slayers and their family's that he was trustworthy while at the same time dodging the mafias who thought he was trying to encroach in their business. It wasn't made at all easier when he found out the Big Boss's daughter was a slayer as well. Needless to say, once the mafia had all the information they started to REALLY chase after him. After all, who didn't want gorgeous and very powerful women as an escort coughslavecough?

So, waking up was always the worst. Half the time he didn't know if he'd find he'd been captured in the night and was to be tortured, or worse, he was exactly where he was supposed to be and now had to train slayers or convince a new family that he wasn't out to get them. Some days he'd rather be tortured.

But despite everything he always woke up. He took a deep breath, but otherwise didn't change his breathing patterns, simulating a deep sleep. The smell wasn't quite right, and now that he thought about it, neither was the temperature. He'd been in northern Africa the last thing he knew, it wasn't meant to be this humid or cool. Sniffing in a way that could be confused with the beginnings of a cold he analyzed the air as best he could. He wasn't the best but even he had learned to notice the telltale signs of approaching rain. Perhaps even a thunderstorm. He rolled around still pretending to be asleep and almost froze if it weren't for the years of training instilled in him.

He had two feet. They had bumped into each other as he turned. He knew that that one foot wasn't a fake. For one thing he always took the prosthetic off before bed, as per Dr.Wicca's instructions, and even if he had forgotten he had feeling in both appendages. He moved one foot slightly, caressing the other with the tip his toes. Yep, they were both his.

Still feigning sleep he considered the possibilities. Maybe he was dead? No, he doubted it since he ached all over. Was he miraculously healed? Now that he thought about it, the aches he had confused with his usual morning bouts had that distinctive magic feel about them. Maybe Will was involved? She was known to play with magic on her friends more than once… but then again he was supposed to be in Africa and from what he knew she was in Japan, a bit too big of a distance to be throwing magic around, even if it were to heal him. Plus he had talked to her the day before and he doubted she would do something like that without giving him a heads up first. If it happened to be her doing he was so killing her, after he gave her a big sloppy-Scooby kiss of course.

But still that didn't explain the difference in heat and humidity… hmmm… perhaps time-travel? Maybe he was back in Sunnydale High, about to meet his two best buds and sleep in history class. Tentatively touching around him he felt a raggedy sheet covering him and a worn mattress below. Not exactly familiar but not too terribly different that he'd throw the theory out the window without further proof.

The magical aches were acting up more than his usual aches ever did and he desperately wanted to take a shower, see if it worked as well as it did on his normal aches. In his explorations he realized that neither his arms nor legs were bound, so he was to assume he was safe… or so screwed that it didn't even mater.

Forcing himself to act sleepily he blinked his eyes open, determined to make sure that he was at least alone. Roving his eyes around the unfamiliar room he saw it was as worn as the bed he was on. At least the time-travel theory was out. An alternate reality maybe? There still seemed to be people stupid enough to make w-i-s-h-e-s.

Suddenly it hit him and he quickly drew a hand to his face, forgetting the sleepy-barely-awake act he had been following. His eyes! Or more importantly, his EYE! His second hand flew to his face so fast he almost slapped himself but even if he had it would have been beneath his notice. He had both eyes! Not even a prosthetic or a demonic substitute (Willow's idea, don't ask) but a full functional human born-and-bred eye!

He kept looking around not even really seeing anymore, simply drinking in the depth perception and 180º field vision that so many took for granted.

An odd noise brought him out of his happy stupor. 'So' he thought. 'I'm not alone after all…' Glancing around he finally noticed the room seemed oddly blurry. Now, he had never told anyone, but he had actually needed glasses when he was a younger, but hadn't managed to convince his parents of the fact. They were convinced he was just dumb. But after the hyena incident his eyes were better than ever, and his eyesight suddenly improving did nothing to deter his parents to think he was just out to spend their money in stupid knick-knacks. Over the years in Africa he had come to peace with the other sides of himself and brought them forth frequently to help deal with different situations.

Closing his eyes, (both eyes! Oh, he was never going to get used to this!) he called the hyena forth. There was a slight resistance, but he was not to be deterred. Both Hyena and Soldier had become as much a part of him as… well, as the bits of his mind they resided in and he refused to be parted with them. So tugging firmly on his connection with both he finally managed to get them through whatever had been keeping them back. He didn't notice any difference from before, but instinctively knew that now he once more had them within his reach.

Opening his eyes he immediately noticed the difference. The room had come into focus as sharply as had been the norm ever since he had been a hormonally charged teenager with a hyena in his head. Ah, good times.

He looked around, surprise etching into his features. Well, if the room had been unfamiliar before it was downright bizarre now! This definitely threw time-travel out the window!

The room was relatively neat (which was one of the first reasons he knew it could never have been his) with only a scatter of odd papers lying on the desk together with old fashioned inkwells with feathers sticking out of them. Broken toys were piled into a corner and a small shelf filled with dusty untouched books. A big chest rested at the foot of the worn bed he lay on as old fashioned as the equipment on the desk. But what clinched it form him, most definitely was the cage near the window… or actually the owl that seemed to be sleeping inside of it.

"Well," he spoke for the first time since waking. "I guess I'm not in Kansas anymore Toto."


	2. Simply being fed up

Disclaimer: Do you know the muffin man? Well, I promised not to say anything but since you're about to sue, he gave me the characters for my birthday… I _was _going to give them back, but how's that for ungrateful?

Time: it's well after the end of BtVS and after OotP in HP. Any inconsistencies _PLEASE_ let me know. I'm a die hard HP fan but only familiar with the BtVS series mostly by way of fan fictions cringes…

Warning: Will have slash...! Eventually…

Chapter 1: Simply being fed-up…

Speaking perhaps had not been the best idea since it had woken the bird up. Getting involved in a staring contest with the owl (they _really_ don't blink!), not that smart either. If you happened to consider that he was in a room he didn't know, while he had no idea where (or even _when_) he was, it was perhaps even less so taking into account that he had more pressing things to do. I.e., he had never gotten around to that shower he waxed poetic about and the aches had become dull throbs in the back of his mind, acting up whenever they felt like it (for example whenever he breathed!).

So, losing to the bird who he could have sworn smirked and hooted in triumph, he decided to branch out and investigate outside the room. Closing the window (threadbare clothes plus cold night air equal hypothermia, and not of the good) he grabbed a small knife from the desk and lightly stepped towards the door. He may have appeared in an alternate universe or something but that didn't mean they weren't out to get him.

Quietly he opened the door and slipped out. He could feel the bird's eyes following him all the way. Turning to look at it he barely resisted the urge to signal it for silence. As if the bird could understand him! Shaking his head slightly wondering idly if one could actually shake madness out, he made his way quietly towards the nearest door. Pushing it open softly he peeked inside, still marveling at the fact that he had his eye back and wouldn't have to move his head around to get a good look at the entire room. Amazing what one could do with two eyes, huh.

It was a bedroom of what appeared to be a couple, both of which were sleeping in the large bed in the middle of the room. There were two mounds, a disgustingly large one and a rather smaller one. He shuddered involuntarily and after verifying that they were sleeping quickly took his head from the door and closed it.

Another room turned out to be an empty guest room, in quite better condition than the room he himself had wound up in. After the rather cursory look he closed the door and moved on.

The next door turned out to be the bathroom and he decided to continue his investigation later. He was still rather confused and his aches weren't getting any better. He needed a shower and he needed one _now_. Otherwise he'd be of no use even if there was a confrontation. Still, he looked the closed door behind him. It wouldn't hold if any ugly nasty or even a bad tempered slayer came after him, but it would at least buy him some seconds to cover himself up. Gotta keep the dignity intact… or at least what was left of it… if there was any…

So, a shower… just as soon as he figured out what to do with the kid that was already in the bathroom. The kid looked like he was maybe twelve, though his very wide green eyes almost covered by a mop of black hair seemed to look at least a couple years older than that. He blinked a couple of times and smiled winningly trying to buy some time to think what to say. The kid blinked as well and gave a weird looking grimace looking like a deer caught in headlights. Damn.

"Look kid, uh…" he said softly, trying not to scare him. The kid started talking at the same time… well, his lips moved but no sound came out. Huh? The kid frowned and cocked his head to the side. How odd that the kid looked so small but was looking straight into his eyes. His hand moved on it's own to pat down his hair, a nervous gesture he didn't remember having and that made him he glare at his hand accusingly. His very young, not-at-all-scarred, five-digit hand. Huh…perhaps the time-travel theory wasn't so far-fetched?

Starring at his far-too-young hands for quite a while he suddenly remembered the kid and looked up to see where he'd gone, to find him in the exact same place just staring at him with his hands splayed in front of him. Blinking he realized there was another door behind the kid and it was locked as well. Not only that, but there seemed to be some sort of window between him and the kid…

Oh…. Oh, now he just felt stupid! A mirror! Perhaps whatever mojo had given him an extra eye had screwed with his brain more than he had thought considering how long it had taken him to realize that tidbit of information. Wait! So then the kid…

"Damn it, Xander, what did you get yourself into this time!" and with that, whatever leftover magic had been fuelling him ran out and he promptly passed out on the floor.

It had taken getting used to, being in a body not his own. But considering he was alive and no-one was after him, it barely rated a 5 in his Hellmouthy scale of weirdness and was quickly taken into stride.

In fact, if it weren't for the obesity of the man, the skinniness of the woman, the fact that there was another teenager and that they all spoke Giles (meaning they were British) he'd think that he had actually traveled back home to when he was a kid.

So with the situation in general being so familiar, he simply had to get used to himself. That everything was so… small! He looked like a Munchkin he was so young and scrawny and underfed!!

The thought made him scowl. Just because he had a shitty childhood and could take it didn't mean anybody else had to as well. And even less that he had to stand for it a second time! After being screamed around all day and doing chores all around the house, he was allowed to retreat to the room he'd woken up in where he took special note of the locks _outside_ the door, and the cat-flap near the floor. Now, he'd cleaned the whole house, and hadn't seen any cat, let alone even _one_ cat-hair. And considering how anal that woman seemed about cleanliness, he doubted she would approve of a cat anyway! So if the flap wasn't for any pet…

Just as much as he refused to jump to conclusions, which was the only reason he didn't call Child Services, he refused to stay and take any sort of crap from anyone, so once in the room he took a bag and started throwing anything useful he could find in it. Taking a bag of very large golden coins (point for alternate universe) and several changes of clothes and three or four books (who knew what a bit of research mode would uncover) he crammed it all into the bag. He also found what seemed like a fancy stake with a bit of a dull point which he stashed into his pocket. He could always sharpen it later.

Curiosity getting the better of him he finished riffling through the chest at the foot of the bed and found…

"Jackpot!" he smiled happily. At least one thing became easier. With the amount and diversity of the herbs… and other icky stuff he'd just found, he could easily cast the one singular spell he knew, and that he made sure all his slayers knew: the Hide Me spell. Well, ok it wasn't really called that and was more a small ritual and a weird chant, but it translated quite loosely to 'hide me' and he was sticking to it.

Packing a couple more herbs in case he needed to repeat the Hide Me spell at some other point (it only lasted 2 hours). He burned and chanted and poof! No unnaturally fat or skinny people would see him scampering away, and no neighbors would suddenly wonder why that kid was leaving home so late. At least not until he was sure no-one should recognize him.

Spell done and things packed he turned to leave when he was stopped by what could only be interpreted as an indignant squawk. The bird. Of course, since he had done the ritual with the bird in the room it was included in the spell therefore it didn't really apply to it…

"Look, Bird…" another squawk. "Fine! Owl! I'm leaving and since it seems you don't like this place any more than I do, I'll get you out too… ok?" Simply the fact that he was actually talking to the bird like it understood, made his Hellmouthy senses squeak. Or perhaps it was the left-over of any common sense he had stashed in there.

The owl turned to look at him straight in the eyes as if considering the proposition and hooted in a way he chose to think of as agreement. So he opened the window and cautiously made his way towards the cage. No sense in scaring the thing into biting him! Carefully he opened the cage… and cleared the way as quick as he could.

It stared at him unblinkingly, as if wondering if he had gone insane. It hooted softly and slowly started moving closer and closer to him.

"No! You have to leave out the window! Window!" he hissed signaling madly towards the opening. Owl kept coming closer. "Window! Open! Freedom! Got it?!" he pleaded as much as he could while still moving backwards towards the door. Damn it, he was going to be pecked to death! Unless… yes! The doorknob was in his grasp! Quickly he turned it and scampered out as fast as his short scrawny legs could take him.

Out the door, out the house, he didn't stop till the end of the street where he collapsed out of breath.

After a few seconds, making sure nothing was left behind in his rush to escape certain death ('the thing was ten-feet tall! With a serrated beak and shot laser-beams out of its eyes! Honest!') while he got his wind back, he believed he was finally ready to begin his journey to… huh, that's funny, he was sure he had stopped being stupid enough as to leave without thinking where to head to next! Damn it!

Typical! It was Hellmouth worthy in its irony! After all those years honing his skills and abilities and all that hard-won experience… just throw him in a teenage body and watch how he makes an idiot of himself! Bound to get himself killed! He became a planer, a warrior, hell, a _general_ in his own right! He managed to make a name for himself in the underworld even! And now he was the teenaged _kid_ in the alternate universe about to get himself _killed_ by his very own idiocy...! Unless he was pecked to death by a mutated homicidal owl! (Hey! That was his story and he was sticking to it!)

Ok… deep breaths! Think Xander! You're in an unknown place reached by unknown means, so that means that someone is most likely out to get you… hmmm, so no contacting allies or anything until the situation is clearer and you have a basis for operations. Great… now what?

Looking around the sleepy neighborhood the Soldier part of his mind kicked into gear.

'_Residential site, with technology that's up to date with what we're familiar…_'

'Damn! And I was so looking forward to visiting Star Trek!' he joked.

'_We appear to be in a suburban area, which means that there must be a large city in the vicinity… and probably a commuter train for those who work to go to-and-from one place to the other.'_ It had come to a point in their… well, ok, 'relationship' that they were so used to each other that he wasn't surprised that Soldier pretended to not even hear him. It's as if he'd simply _given up_… snicker

'So,' he finished. 'I sneak in the train get off in the Big City and presto change-o… one Free-Xander to go, please! Oh! And add some Twinkies, would you?'

The silence in his head sounded so resigned he barely managed to avoid snickering in real life. Well, it would have been silence if it weren't for Hyena chortling away…

A/N: Ok, so Chapter 1 done and accounted for! Please review and let me know what you think! Even if you just want to say you liked it… it felt nice to see that some put me in their Author Alerts, so I hope I don't let you down!... anything odd or incomprehensible, please _PLEASE_ let me know since I probably hadn't noticed it… nobody's perfect! (Nobody: "Who, me?")

Anyway, enough madness from me, and hope you liked it…


	3. Misfortunes of Alternate Universeing

A/N: I slightly changed the first paragraphs of the last chapter, since my Beta said it was a bit confusing. Sorry about that! 29/2/08

Disclaimer: My preciouuuss! It gaves it to usss!! Itss ours giftsss!! For our birthdayss!! (Now, isn't that convincing you that it's NOT a good idea to sue? grin insanely)

Time: it's well after the end of BtVS and after OotP in HP. Any inconsistencies _PLEASE_ let me know. I'm a die hard HP fan but only familiar with the BtVS series mostly by way of fan fictions cringes…

Warning: Will have slash...! Eventually…

'Blah' is thinking.

'_Blah'_ is either Hyena or Soldier in Xander's mind. Each case will be noted for one or the other. Let me know if at any point it isn't clear.

Chapter2: Misfortunes of Alternate Universe… -ing

It was both easier and harder than he had thought it would be. It reminded him slightly of the good old days in which he sneaked into the Sunnydale military base for basic weaponry… well, if you considered a bazooka basic!

Anyway, after he _finally_ found the darned train, in between trying not to get stepped on and figuring out where he had to get off, it wasn't the restful trip he'd imagined (for which Hyena would simply _not_ shut up! It was eternally amused by his misfortunes…). But he should have seen it coming… when was the last time anything involving him had been restful? Hell, when had the first time been?!

Then again, if this _was_ an Alternate Universe, to which he found more points for than against (personalities in his head more active than usual, check!) then he might actually get a break… and that obviously set Hyena off, again!

With a long suffering sigh he managed to slip off the train in what was, as far as he understood from overheard conversations, the very middle of the 'Big City'. With all the Giles-sound-alike people walking around, he almost dared to think he actually _was_ somewhere in England (one of the very few 'against' points in the alternate universe theory)… but then again, that seemed a bit _too_ normal for him. He doubted he'd actually be so lucky as to be within a few miles of back-up.

So, once off the train he immersed himself in the middle of _not-English-city_. Almost too late too, as the spell started fading in the last minutes of the ride and he'd had to high-tail it out of there before they really noticed him. That would have been hard to explain!

But not as hard as it ended up being trying to explain the very large golden coins that clinked along in his backpack. He tried to pay some food with it (another idiotic thing he'd forgotten to bring) and was looked at oddly and told to pay with real money or get out. Thankfully, or perhaps regretfully if you asked Xander's stomach, he'd tried paying up front, just in case of such a casualty and therefore was able to leave with minimal fuss. Number One Rule in Alternate Universes: never acquire a debt, you might be asked to pay in blood… literally. And him, very much fond of having it _in _his veins, despite appearances!

So, no real money and a very grumbling stomach… it pretty much spelled 'You Are Screwed' in very large bold letters. Perhaps even underlined in all sort of colors and surrounded by flashing lights…

Anyway! If you also added that he looked all of_twelve_ (and might be even younger!) he very much doubted he'd be swimming in job offers … at least not the kind where he might even consider working! Can you say 'ewww!' enough?

Ok, so his main problem was that he looked liked a runaway orphan stray… Great! He just had to stop looking like… exactly what he was? Damn… awful idea… like he could just go 'poof!' and look differently! Stupid Xander, never good for anything… 'cept to get the donuts, Zeppo-boy…

'STOP! Not a teenager anymore! Big Bad African Warrior!! Fight the invasion of the teenaged angst! Pretend to be the adult you have become so accustomed to pretending to being! Oh, you know what I mean!' Really, the self-deprecating thing went out of style a long time ago… plus he had so many other people to bash him at every turn that it was redundant for him to try as well.

'_A buzz cut would make most believe that you look younger because of the hair, rather than in spite of it.__'_ The ever efficient Soldier… always with a practical and logical idea at hand. _'Also, you could probably sell two or three coins to a collector or someone who buys gold. To get by until a job is even possible.'_

'I know. No more or it'd be too suspicious. I mean a kid with a ton of gold coins is either a thief or well… a thief.'

'_Or you could simply kill someone with your bare hands. No one would think you were a little boy, after that!'_

'Sure, I'll just be the demented homicidal kid who went nuts and killed a guy while claiming he's from another universe!' You'll have to excuse Hyena. He was raised in a rather_different_ society.

Either way, Lady Luck really seemed to be looking out for him today; then again maybe it was just him, since just as he turned a corner he found a place that bought gold. He stared almost unblinkingly (he was no mutated psychotic homicidal owl, thank you very much) at the sign advertising such a convenient coincidence.

Come on! Who nowadays even bothered with buying gold?! Did it even make sense at all?! He barely quelled the rising irrational urge to storm in there and ask what kind of sick bastards were they to be exactly what he needed and be exactly were he needed them to be?! People nowadays! Can't be trusted!

Taking a deep breath, rationalizing that the stress was getting to him (having no-one try to kill him at all today, not even jokingly, was playing havoc on his nerves) he stepped into the store making the bell tinkle.

When he finally left the shop, about an hour later, it was with less clinking and more… paper money sounds. He was in awe that he'd managed to sell the old man 4 coins, and at what he believed to be a rather reasonable price too!

His main problem was that he wasn't a very good liar. He could omit the truth with the best of them, but outright lie… much more difficult. In most cases, his truth-omitting ability far surpassed his needs… but in this case the best he could have done was 'Well, I found them… so, finders' keepers, right?' and that screamed 'THIEF' with big bold letters more than anything he could think to lie about. It's not like he could say that he believed they were his since they were in the odd room he woke up in … or that they actually were his _body's_… because the body wasn't really his…

Ok, so he couldn't actually say anything at all related to the truth. Therefore, with no choice but to rely on one of his weaker abilities, he managed to brokenly claim the coins were an inheritance left to him by his late grandmother… whom of course had died before he got them… really!

Needless to say, the old man was just a _bit_ suspicious and quite reluctant to give Xander anything, least of all money. While Big-Bad-African-Warrior Xander Harris could get away with being suspicious, skinny little Nobody rug-rat-extreme didn't have that luxury. He needed allies even more than Xander himself had at that age, and that was saying something!

By what medium, then, did Lady Luck achieve the nearly impossible feat of giving Xander exactly what he needed? Well! Enter the Missus…!

"Oh my goodness, would you look at this precious little angel!" She fawned, she cooed and she positively drooled all over him, in a very grandmotherly way, of course. His bottle green eyes, his long thick eyelashes, his 'angel-worthy' face! All of it was commented and admired by the old woman. It was the sort of attention he'd never _ever _thought he'd be at the receiving end of!

And when she heard about 'his poor dear Granny'! Well, of course he couldn't go around on his own and with nobody looking after him! If it were up to her he would come by every day and let her make sure he ate right! He was as skinny as a twig as it was already!

After a resurgence of his newest pat-down-hair nervous tick, he managed to take the compliments like a gentleman (stuttering, babbling and nearly weeping like the little kid he was pretending he wasn't).

On one hand it was almost degrading seeing how much being a little kid actually _made_ him a little kid.

On the other hand though, it was probably his reactions (clingy and needy like a desperate love-starved sponge) that made the old man crack, and buy the coins from him. Not only that, but the couple recommended a small B&B nearby which was rather cheap but still comfortable. Which then brought up the fact that it was far too late for 'a sweet young boy' like himself to be up and he really should get going if he wanted to get settled before they locked the doors for the night.

So quickly and efficiently he found himself out the store and on the street unconsciously clutching a piece of paper with directions written on it and an admonishment from the woman that he barely heard and hardly registered. Something about… something other… and there was rowing involved? Huh…

Moving on to what he could actually focus his mind on, he directed his feet to a homely house only a couple of blocks away, with 'Bed and Breakfast' etched on the side. Signing in for the night he was guided by a friendly faced girl to the nearest room and left to rest with a softly spoken 'goodnight'.

Snuggling in the bed with nary a glance around (Soldier was going to kick him in the morning) he quickly fell into a deep sleep even if it was the earliest he had gone to bed in more than 15 years.

A/N: Hope to get the next chapter out within the week if work and everything else cooperates. Let me now if you liked it, or especially if you didn't explain and I'll either change it or (most likely) try and explain why I made it that way…

Thanks to all those who put me in Alert and a very special THANK YOU!!! to Zafaran who was my very first FFnet reviewer! Glad you liked it and yes, my muse is quite oddly enthused with this story…  To be honest so am I! 


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